Authors Note: This is my first work here, so I'm more than happy to hear any feedback you all may have. I've been thinking about writing this for a long time, so honestly, I'm glad I finally put pen to paper. I hope you enjoy it!
Disclaimer: All characters are fictional, and similarities to real-world people/events are purely coincidental. Everyone involved is of legal consenting age.
I should start here: I love my girlfriend.
Olivia and I have been dating for about three years, since the beginning of our senior year of high school. She's, to be entirely honest, way out of my league. She's about 5'6, fair skinned with beautiful blue eyes and a gold ring around her iris. Medium-length blonde hair and a smile to die for. It doesn't hurt that she's got a pair of DD tits to add to her fairly skinny frame. If you can even call it that, the only issue is that she doesn't like to show out. I'm always trying to get her to show off; I know she's got the body for it, but she's shy, and I respect that.
From the moment we started dating, it was clear that we had a spark. We connected on a level I'd never experienced before. Every step she took, I was right there. Every look we shared, we knew exactly what it meant. I'd known for years that I wanted to marry this girl.
Not to mention, our sex is incredible. Olivia isn't an outwardly frisky person, but once she decided she was in the mood... she was like an animal. Singularly minded with one goal.
I love what we have, and I would never willingly compromise that. That said, everything changed when she went abroad.
Coming into our junior year, we knew the first semester would be tough--she was going to France for the semester while I remained at school. Towards the end of the summer, leading up to her leaving, we were like animals. Every chance we got, I was buried between her beautiful legs, one way or another.
She was clearly more worried than I was about the time abroad. There were a million reasons she came up with to be anxious about, but I soothed her concerns repeatedly with reassurances about us. After all, I'd decided long ago that I would marry this girl, and there was little the world could throw at us to change that. I drove her to the airport the day she left and hugged her as tightly as possible. Pulling away from the hug, she looked up at me with tears forming in the corners of her eyes.
"Be good, yeah?" I joked.
"Jackass." She threw it back in my face as she pushed me away, chuckling. "I should be saying the same thing to you. All these girls back at school will finally have the chance to make a move on you."
"All these girls back at school know I'm the most taken man on Earth. It's you I should be worried about-."
"As if. You know my heart belongs to you and you alone."
I pulled her in close one last time, scanning up and down her gorgeous form. I wanted to take in every last bit of her before she was gone. A small part of me, too, tried to send her off with a tease: "I think more than just your heart belongs to me." I grinned at her.
"Josh!" I watched as she quickly glanced around the drop-off zone to see if anyone else had caught that, but luckily, the comment seemed to have been swept up in the noise. "You." She pulled me in for a kiss right then and there. My hands lay on her hips and gave them a gentle squeeze as her hands wrapped around my neck, pulling me in closer. After what felt like an eternity, she pulled away first. I could feel a familiar tingle beneath my belt.
"You know, I'm just sayin' if you've got a few, we can step into the back of the car now, and I can send you off in style."
"You wish. There's no way I'm risking missing my flight."
"Can you blame a guy for wishing when his girlfriend looks like you?"
"No. But he can wait."
"I'll always wait for you."
And then she was off. With a knowing smile, she turned around and crossed through the door's threshold. I watched her with a tinge of sadness before my eyes settled down on her firm ass swaying as she got further and further away. She has a phenomenal ass.
Turning back around, I reassured myself that things weren't that bad. After all, I was dating the sexiest girl in the world and would have her again in four short months.
The first month of the semester was a blur. My classes kept me busy, and with the time difference, Olivia and I found ourselves on pretty different schedules. Whenever I woke up, she'd be in the middle of classes. When I got off classes, she'd be out with her friends. By the time she got back, I was out with mine. It was a new dance for us, and slowly but surely, we were learning the steps.
Our sex life evolved with the times but stayed as alive as ever. We'd sent one another teasing texts throughout the day ranging from expressions of longing to vivid descriptions of what we wanted from each other and even to the occasional picture to keep one another tided over until the main event. About once a week, we'd get on a video call and work our way through phone sex. It couldn't come close to the real deal, but there was something incredibly sexy about telling one another in depth what we wanted to do, all while slowly getting off.
It was through our phone sex that we started to get more into fantasy play. After all, there were only so many times we could describe sexual positions. It was in talking through these fantasies that I realized I was into the idea of her cheating on me.
Our fantasies had started (relatively) innocently enough. I talked about her riding me in the car before we went into an event; she spoke about us on the beach, finding a sand dune to hide behind, while I pushed her bikini thong aside and ate her out. Soon enough, though, I started feeling like it wasn't enough and began to make them dirtier and dirtier. That's how I stumbled into my kink.
I know functionally, the idea of her cheating on me was awful. I love Olivia, and I love that we're the only people the other has been with. We lost our virginities to one another in high school, and we've always been enough for each other. It's special what we have. That said, I couldn't ignore that building sensation. It got to the point where when I was masturbating, it was always the thought of her and someone else. Not even specific people... just someone who wasn't me. The thought of my beautiful girlfriend underneath another man was exhilarating. The idea that her needs could get so primal that she'd abandon any notion of our relationship kept me up at night. I probably masturbated more during these few weeks than I ever had before.
We've always been open with one another about everything we think is essential. Olivia and I have always felt strongly that communication is key to a lasting relationship, but I knew I shouldn't tell her about this. This felt too dirty, too risky. I didn't want to jeopardize what we had.
This brings us to an average Wednesday night. I was sitting at my desk, my phone propped up against my monitor, with her on the other side of the phone. Olivia wore a plain white tee with short black boy shorts, which did nothing to hide her gorgeous thighs. Her hair was pinned up in a messy bun. As I stared at the small screen, my mind wandered with fantasies about my Thanksgiving trip to see her. The idea of hooking my fingers along those shorts and pulling them down...
"I think he likes me." She said flatly. My focus immediately shifted back to reality.
"What? Like... likes likes?" She had my attention.
"I mean, he gave me a nickname. 'Blondie.' Ugh. It's not really subtle anymore. I had to remind him again that I have a boyfriend." Shit. This was important. I should have been paying more attention.
"I'm sorry, babe. That's sucks. That's frustrating."
"It's okay. These things happen. I just... I hope things don't get weird."
"I'm sure they won't. He can be mature." I reassured her.
"One would hope."
